Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul
by Little Miss Lily
Summary: A Quest. A Prophecy. A Forbidden Love. The hunt for the horcruxes is on. Is the death of Voldemort worth one good mans life? totally canon
1. Prologue

Prologue

Harry could feel a cold numbness slowly begin to encompass his body as the taxi turned from Magnolia Crescent into Privet Drive. That was how he coped. He'd grown to be quite capable of hiding his feelings; presenting a mask, an unreadable façade to the outside world. Or anyone who didn't know him at least.

The Shock. The Pain. Harry was, if not growing used to it, becoming… accustomed. He laughed to himself. He was growing to expect it. Maybe someone out there was trying to tell him something. Maybe he was supposed to do this alone, to _be_ alone, maybe …

"Ronald Weasley!"

Harry jerked upright at the sound of Hermione Granger's voice. Harry had known Hermione for a long time; six years in fact and they had been best friends for almost as long; ever since she had helped him and his other best friend (the aforementioned) Ronald Weasley to defeat a cave troll in their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was an intensely clever witch with a seemingly never ending capacity for storing knowledge and information. At this point she was trying to get some information out of the third member of their trio.

"And what, precisely, are you planning on doing with those?"

Harry could see the back of Ron's ears and neck begin to redden as he bent down mumbling incoherently ('none of your business…. put Harry through hell… deserves it') to pick up several brightly coloured sweets from where they had fallen out of his pocket. Ronald Weasley, known as Ron, was one of seven children. The sixth child and last boy. With five older brothers he had never really had anything new, or all of his own. This pained Harry greatly. The Weasleys had taken Harry in; become something of a surrogate family. Harry would have gladly given them half of his rather considerable wealth, his inheritance.

Harry Potter, you see, is an orphan. His parents, brutally murdered, gave their lives to protect him, Harry, their only child. And that was the reason the taxi he and his two closest friends were squeezed into was rounding that fateful corner into Privet Drive. When Harry's mother gave her life to save him she left him with a sort of lasting protection; it was very old magic, a magic so old and so forgotten that his parents murderer, when he tried to kill Harry, was instead, vanquished. Banished from the corporeal world; doomed to eke out a meaningless existence. Too weak, too powerless to return. This old magic, this power, was in Harry's blood, passed on from his mother and as long as Harry had regular contact with another person of the same blood he would remain protected.

And so Harry, the one year old Harry James Potter was left with nothing. No physical harm done except from a red lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The world had celebrated while Harry Potter's parents were lying dead. For Harry was a hero, 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. The same night that he caused the (albeit temporary) destruction of history's most dark, evil wizard he was left on the doorstep of his Aunt's house. His mother's muggle (non-magic) sister. At Number 4 Privet Drive. Ron and Hermione's petty squabbling now became completely pushed to the back of his mind as he zoned out, retreating once again into himself.

For Harry Potter was not the only one to have survived that night. One other. Wandering the world, a mere shadow of his former self; content to possess both animals and humans alike in a vain attempt to contact his followers, his worshippers. For thirteen years this shade hovered on the very edge of existence. Until that fateful night two years ago. He had returned. The very being who had tried to murder a baby, the being who was hated and feared to the extent that people dared not even say his name. 'You-Know-Who' some people called him, 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'... but Harry knew better. His name was Lord Voldemort. His name was Tom Riddle. And Harry was going to kill him.


	2. Return To Privet Drive

**I own nothing. No people. No places. No things. Everything you see before you belongs to the literary wonder that is Ms Rowling.**

_Well hello! I have to say that this is quite exciting... __My first ever fanfic... __Just to say that I hope you enjoy it (I realise the beginning is quite random; I was on a broken down train and was like 'hm, what can I do? I know, I'll write something' so I put pen to paper and out flew the prologue lols) _

_The prologue is quite angsty yes (I was stuck on a stationary train for 4 and a half hours though so I wasn't feeling exactly chirpy) but I can assure you the rest won't be like that... well ok, some of the characters may have their 'moments' but for the most part... anywho I'm rambling. I'll stop._

_So I plan to put up a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday; this shouldn't be any trouble as I already have quite a few chapters written already. I hope people have some sort of opinion be it good or bad... If you do then please review if you have the time __I'll also be very happy to answer any questions anyone has (as long as they're polite lols) so don't be afraid to ask._

_Happy Reading!_

_Little Miss Lily Xxx_

_Oh yes, this is my version of Book 7, post HBP. Totally Canon _

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Chapter One:

Return To Privet Drive

"Merlin. I have had quite enough of that." Hermione stated forcefully as she flicked her wand towards the door; muttering an almost indecipherable _silencio _under her breath.

"I heard that! So much for non-verbal eh Hermione." snorted Ron "Oh shut up Ronald." came the snappy reply.

Since the three had entered the house almost twenty minutes ago Harry's Uncle Vernon had seemingly taken it upon himself to deafen the whole street with his rather loud and continuous shouting; to say the least it was getting on everyone's nerves.

Harry was sat on the familiar lumpy mattress in his bedroom at Privet Drive. He had somewhat retreated into himself since Dumbledore's death and understandably his friends were getting worried.

"Harry," started Hermione "Harry I know it's a silly question considering the circumstances, but are you, you know, alright?" She knelt on the floor in front of him "Please, talk to us Harry… let us help you." "Yeah mate," began Ron, "It'd make you feel better if you talked." A rather lengthy silence followed, punctured only by the slow, steady breathing of the three friends.

Harry sighed and opened his mouth, drawing his breath as though on the verge of speech. He stopped "I just, I, well, I can't _do _this anymore, it's too much. Ron, Hermione, you are the two best friends I could have ever hoped for," his face contorted as though he were fighting a battle within himself; struggling, trying to find the right words "but I cannot, I will not allow you to become a part of this, I --" "You stop right there Harry James Potter. You have no right to tell neither myself nor Ron what we can and can't do. We have had plenty of chances to turn our backs on this, on you. And have we? No we have not. And quite frankly I would have though you wouldn't have turned you back on us either." whilst speaking she had proceeded to pace angrily, waving her arms around her head in a decidedly un-ladylike fashion "Hermione that is not fair; I am not turning my back on you! I don't know what I would have done without you both." Hermione smiled smugly "Well I'm glad that sorted then; now lets get started with this Horcrux business then shall we!?" Harry gaped at her open-mouthed, then his face broke into a grin "bloody mental" was Ron's response. Harry turned to him then nodded. Visible on his face the only true smile since that fateful night not so long ago. That fateful night when everything changed.

Before Harry's headmaster and mentor Albus Dumbledore had died he had left Harry with a very important task, a quest of sorts. Before his supposed 'death' sixteen years ago the nefarious Lord Voldemort had taken steps, terrible steps to achieve that thing of which many men dream. Immortality. In order to accomplish this Voldemort called upon the most foul, the most loathsome of magics known to man. And with these magics Lord Voldemort split his soul. Into seven fragments. Or so it was believed by Dumbledore. Voldemort encased these fragments in objects and then took steps to hide each; to ensure that they were never found by, nor accessible to, anyone but him. And that was Harry's task; to find each of these objects, these 'Horcruxes'. To find them and destroy them.

Two had already been taken care of; a diary belonging to the young Voldemort and a ring belonging to his maternal ancestors, the Gaunts. Seven being a powerful magic number that left four more to find; excluding Voldemort himself. There was the locket that once belonged to Voldemort's ancestor and one of Hogwarts' four founders, Salazar Slytherin. It was this locket which had indirectly caused the death of Albus Dumbledore. The locket retrieved by Harry and Dumbledore had proven to be a decoy, a fake. The real locket stolen by the seemingly elusive R.A.B. Then there was the cup; the goblet which once belonged to another of the founders, Helga Hufflepuff. The next remains a mystery but is believed to be a relic of either Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw; the other two founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The last, before Voldemort himself, Dumbledore believed to be Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini. Only with the destruction of these objects will the death of Voldemort be solidified, eternal.

The trio had settled down on Harry's small and uncomfortable bed, Hermione surrounded by several very large volumes detailing the lives and times of the Hogwarts Four in an attempt to discover what the mysterious Horcrux could be. Ron and Harry on the other hand were surrounded by Chocolate Frog wrappers; busy discussing Ron's eldest brother and his fiancé Fleur along with the subject of their impending wedding.

"Harry, you Ginny, well, you were kind of supposed to be going, um, well… together" At the mention of Harry's ex-girlfriend's name his face once again fell, resuming its mask. Harry didn't reply. _Ginny. _He hadn't thought of that. At Dumbledore's funeral he had split up with her. It wasn't safe to be around him. It was better for her. Anyone close to Harry was a target for Voldemort; and Harry could not lose her. Not Ginny. But just… going to the wedding. As a family friend. That couldn't hurt. Could it? Then again, he couldn't trust himself around Ginny. But he was a strong person. He could do this. Just a few dances. Dances. That meant dancing. Oh Merlin.

Harry's train of though was broken and he was thankfully saved from answering Ron when the door to his room opened slightly and a bony, horse-faced head poked through the gap. Harry's aunt. Petunia Dursley. Her eyes widening as she noticed Hermione surrounded b the ancient texts before she seemingly regained her composure. Drawing a breath through her already dilated nostrils, as though trying to smell the magic in the room she spoke only one word. "Dinner." Then promptly withdrew her head and closed the door. The three friends looked at each other incredulously "I thought they didn't feed you" said Ron as his face broke into a grin. Obviously happy he was getting a home-cooked meal as opposed to something that had been conjured. Hermione merely frowned as though thinking something through. "They don't." was Harry's response.

Five minutes later the three friends had made their way downstairs and were settling into their chairs. The trio placed, rather amusingly. As far away from the Dursley's as possible. "This looks lovely Mrs Dursley" stated Hermione politely in reference to the mountains of food before them. A traditional British Sunday Roast. On a Thursday afternoon. An enormous leg of lamb, roast potatoes and parsnips, Yorkshire puddings, boiled potatoes, a carrot and swede mash, steamed cauliflowers and broccoli; all topped off with gravy and mint sauce. Ron looked positively gleeful.

Harry however could only think one thing. He paused, eyeing everyone else suspiciously as they picked up their cutlery and began to eat. "What's going on?" He said slowly.

"DAMN INGRATITUDE! THAT'S WHAT IT IS YOU DESPICABLE BOY. YOUR AUNT AND I PUT CLOTHES ON YOUR BACK, FOOD IN YOUR BELLY AND, AND, THIS IS HOW YOU….. SUSPICION!?" Vernon's voice had gradually reached crescendo as his face and neck achieved a rather magnificent shade of red that reminded Harry of Ron's rather distinctive Weasley jumpers. He was silenced however by one word "Vernon." Aunt Petunia's face had achieved a stony, unreadable expression, somewhat akin to Harry's mask. Her husband looked at her furiously but as she held his gaze he looked away and began to e at, muttering under his breath between mouthfuls. Harry looked at his aunt in surprise. She had never stood up to Vernon like that before. He hadn't even thought she would have had it in her. Ron was looking at Vernon open-mouthed; his fork, piled high, was dripping gravy and mint sauce onto the pristine white table cloth. Hermione meanwhile was chewing her lip, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

Petunia cleared her throat and began daintily picking at her food. Harry, however, remained stationary. Not even touching the food on his plate. He watched the others eat as the minutes ticked by. Trying to catch Petunia's eye. Trying and failing. She merely stared at her plate as if knowing that if she were to look up she would be open to questioning Noting Harry's stillness Hermione coughed lightly, nudging Ron with her elbow and placing her knife and for neatly in the middle of her plate. Ron merely grunted, turned, said "what?" and resumed eating.

Once everyone had finished Petunia stood up, eyes still downcast. She began collecting the plates and dishes; readying them to be taken back into the kitchen. Meanwhile Vernon stood; looking at Harry with a glare that could have rivaled his old potions master. _Snape. _The cause, the reason for this whole mess; if it wasn't--" Harry was pulled out of his reverie by Hermione as she stood up saying "Let me help you with that Mrs Dursley." Harry pushed back his chair and quickly stood, placing a hand on Hermione's arm an shaking his head, He reached out to take the plates she was holding and made his way to the kitchen as his friends went back upstairs.

As he pushed open the door with his foot Petunia, who was leaning over the sink viciously scrubbing a plate, paused and her shoulders drooped. She turned to looked at Harry; her gaze mildly imploring. After what seemed like several minutes she opened her mouth and drew a breath. "How did it happen?" she whispered, so quietly Harry could hardly make out her words. His eyes widened then narrowed. That was the last thing he expected to hear. Maybe she meant something else? Only one way to find out. "How did what happen?" Any softness that had been in her voice swiftly disappeared. "Don't act stupid, you know what." She pulled a piece of paper, no, parchment, out of her apron pocket and swiftly crossed the room, thrusting it in front of his face. "I got the letter." By this point her voice had reached such a high pitch Harry was sure the various dogs that lived down Privet Drive were covering their ears in pain. Harry placed the plates on a surface and took the parchment, opening it slowly. Inside it read

_Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley,_

_It causes me immense pain to have to write this letter._

_It is, however, regrettably my place to inform you of a most terrible event. The current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the great and esteemed Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock; Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards) passed away last night. A funeral will be held at the school on Wednesday 18th June. All shall be made welcome. It has been decided that pupils will be allowed to remain here for the few days leading up to the event. If, however, you wish to retrieve your child before then, please inform me and arrangements shall be made. Out of respect for Professor Dumbledore's memory all lessons are suspended and examinations cancelled until further notice. The Hogwarts Express will leave Hogsmeade Station at precisely 9am on Thursday 19th June and, as ever, all remaining students should be picked up from Kings Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾._

_With Sincerest Regret,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry gazed at the parchment. Somehow this made it all seem… real. Of course he knew he hadn't imagined it all but… all of a sudden it was final. An irreversible event. The hand which was holding the parchment dropped to his side and he looked up at Petunia, who had stood quietly, uncomfortably as Harry read the note, and said simply, softly "It was him." He continued to watch, wanting to gauge her response. Petunia looked as though she had been slapped; her mouth, open in horror, was covered by her shaking right hand; her left clutching feebly at her chest as she stumbled backwards. She looked as though she was going to faint. Her reaction so shocked Harry it took him a moment to realize that she needed to sit down before she hurt herself. He dashed behind her and pulled out a chair from the breakfast table, guiding her into it. He could feel her shaking as her breathing became irregular; she was taking short breaths in and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm herself. Unnerved by her response Harry quickly busied himself with the mundane task of making a sup of strong, sweet tea.

When it was prepared he walked over to the table; placing it in front of her. She looked up at Harry, still speechless. She gripped the china, her knuckles turning white, and took a gulp of the scalding tea. She placed it back down on its saucer and the, looking up once more into her nephews face whispered "How?"

Harry took a steadying breath and sat down on the chair opposite her. _He should have made himself a drink too _he thought as he watched Petunia's white fingers grip the delicate china tea-cup. He instead placed a hand on each thigh and grabbed at the material of his jeans; readying himself for the enormity of what he was about to say.

This would be the first time he had talked about it since it had happened.

"They… the Death Eaters," he started "they broke into the castle, me and Dumbledore, we weren't there; we had something to do. This… thing, it weakened him and when we got back to Hogwarts he was attacked by a Death Eater, Malfoy, but he's a pupil and Dumbledore wouldn't hurt a student." He felt tears begin to sting and prickle at the corners of his eyes but he blinked them away and took another deep breath. "Dumbledore had put me under the invisibility cloak and immobilized me," this time he felt a salty wetness trickle gently down his cheek and he brushed it away angrily. "I couldn't do anything, and then… Malfoy, Dumbledore offered to protect him, shelter him, and then he…" Harry wiped his palms against the rough material of his jeans "he couldn't do it, but then Snape," Harry's voice changed, became harder, angrier "Snape came through the door and, he killed him. Dumbledore was begging him but Snape, he didn't care; he just killed him."

There was a silence as both the aunt and the nephew simply sat, eyes downcast, neither moving nor speaking until Harry started once again. "When he… when… when I could move again I went after him but… it was no good. I couldn't even outdo Severus Snape" he added bitterly. At this his aunt's head jerked upwards to look at Harry and she said a word which shocked Harry to his very core "Snivellus?" Harry stared at her in shock. "What did you just say?"

Petunia remembered back to that day. Strange, it was almost exactly twenty years ago but she could remember the conversation like it was yesterday.

_There was a knock at the door and Petunia put down the magazine she had been reading and went to answer it. Her parents were out. Upon opening it she discovered a tall, pale, youth; perhaps a few years younger than herself. He had greasy, lank black hair that fell bedraggled to his shoulders and cold, piercing black eyes. "I'm here to see Lily Evans." "Oh" came Petunia's reply, "She's upstairs, in her bedroom. Second door on the right." He swept past her and made his way up the stairs. Petunia smiled to herself. So Lily was going to entertain a strange boy in her bedroom was she? Well I wonder how her perfect relationship will handle this. She ran to the kitchen, hastily scribbling a note _

_(James, I need you. Come quickly. Lily)_

_and gave it to Lily's owl, Iris, telling her to hurry. She crept upstairs and put her ear against the closed bedroom door. This was going to be good. "What is it for?" came Lily's muffled voice. "It's needed to protect something." came the reply. "What?" Lily questioned. "The Dark Lord chose not to divulge that information." Petunia shivered. She did not like that boy's voice. Lily's reply was so quiet she could hardly hear it "Dark Lord, Voldemort… Severus, no…" "Lily please, this can save you, if you'll just--" "Just what?" retorted Lily, sounding angered. "Betray my friends, my family? Severus I am muggleborn! Do you have any idea… Do you even know me!?" "Think about it Lily," the cold voice again "The Dark Lord always needs talent and you--" "Stop it Severus." She interrupted. "No Lily." He started again "You have to listen to me, just help me do this one thing. This one thing will save you. Let me help you Lily." He pleaded. There was a moments silence before Lily replied "I have James to save me." "You stupid, ignorant girl!" to say this boy did not sound happy was a severe understatement "that blood traitor cannot save you, he cannot protect you, no-one can escape form the Dark Lord, just say yes Lily, just--" her voice cut in before he could finish his sentence "Let go of me Severus" CRACK. A new voice could now be heard. "Lily you said… are you… Snivellus!?" The voice practically screamed "Get you slimy hands off her! Expelli--" "No James" came her sisters voice "Lily what's--" he started to reply before she interrupted him "Severus was just leaving." "No Lily I won't." "Yes Severus… Go/" "I will not until you agree!" the strange boy's voice had a cold emotionless quality to it now. "Agree to what?" questioned James "James it doesn't matter, please, this is between Severus and I." "Snivellus and you… what? Lily tell me what this is." Lily's dear boyfriend doesn't seem to happy thought Petunia smugly as she shifted her weight and pressed her other ear against the door "Shut it Potter." came the cold voice "at least think about it Lily, I'll come back to hear your answer." "You already know my answer." She replied. Petunia heard footsteps and moved quickly into the bathroom next door. Out of sight. The boy opened the door, left the room and stalked downstairs and out of the house. Someone shut Lily's door and Petunia crept back, once again pressing her ear to it "—that about?" asked a male voice "Nothing James." Came the reply "Severus was just trying to help." "Snivellus!? Help!? Merlin Lils what's wrong with you!?" "With me!? retorted Petunia's sister "What's wrong with you!? Why can't you just see the good in him." she added quietly. James, still angry, replied "there is no good in him. That scum does not deserve you Lily. Snivellus doesn't deserve your damned kindness and he doesn't deserve your friendship." "You don't even know him." Lily responded. "And I don't want to!" came the hasty reply "Snivellus is up to something Lily. He has no conscience. If he didn't already act as though he had no soul I'd say the only thing that poor excuse for a human being deserves is to have it sucked out by a Dementor." Petunia recoiled in horror, to… have your soul sucked from your body? What kind of loathsome creature could do that? What was a Dementor? She felt physically sickened; repulsed by the very thought. She pressed her back to the door. James was still talking "—rot away in that hell of a prison. Azkaban is the only place he will end up Lils, mark my words. You should just--" Suddenly everything went quiet, Petunia pushed her body closer against the door to hear what was going on. "REDUCTO" that was the last thing she heard before everything went black._

Petunia's had subconsciously strayed to her stomach, to the scar she had been left with after that awful boy, that 'Potter' had blasted the door to pieces; expecting to find an eavesdropping Snivellus. Instead he had found Petunia lying on the landing unconscious with a two foot piece of wood sticking out of her abdomen, blood pooling around her body. She remembered waking up in that _place_, that _hospital,_ surrounded by those _freaks _with their bizarre injuries. Lily and her boyfriend had visited her once and, apart from their parents' funeral she had never seen nor spoken to her sister again. Petunia had wanted no—

She felt Harry's eyes on her and she looked up at him "I met him once." Then she stood, taking her teacup over to the sink and the now cold dishwater. Harry, shocked, realized he was going to get no more information out of her and stood. He began walking towards the door when he once more heard Petunia's voice "Its up to you isn't it." She almost whispered. It was not a question. Harry stopped. Without turning to face her he merely replied "It was always up to me." and pushed open the kitchen door, leaving it swinging in his wake.

_Well that's Chapter One up __yay __It carries on explaining the back-story and also tells us something about the Petunia-Lily situation...__  
__Now I've got a couple of questions... you get a big imaginary hug from little ole' me if you get them right _

_1) What is Snape trying to get Lily to help him with?__  
__2) What is the whole Petunia-flashback in reference to? I tried to incorporate something which I thought could have been quite important from a past book? Just a small quote but it stuck with me for some reason...Anyone get it?_

_Don't worry, it will start to get interesting soon; I just didn't want to leap into the story and people be like 'huh? What's going on?' so stick with me and I promise it will get better... or at least I hope it will lols_


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